A Little Hypothermia
by singingstarryknights
Summary: It wasn't their first kiss, that much was clear. It was, however, news to him. Set during the writer's strike. Fixed.


A Little Hypothermia

…

It wasn't their first kiss, that much was clear. It was, however, news to him.

_Set during the writer's strike. _

…

"Well, this is a first." Lindsay frowned, stepping up to the railing of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and climbing on, leaning over the edge and squinting at the depression in the ice, and the dead body frozen to it, twenty feet or so from the support tower closest to Manhattan. Danny glanced around the lower level they were standing on, shining his flashlight along the underbelly of the level above.

"We're gonna hafta hook up some cables to these shafts, belay down to the body." Lindsay heard his footsteps shuffle closer a moment before she felt the warmth of his body heat against her back as he peered over her shoulder, gauging the distance.

"Ice is thin. None of the M.E. guys are gonna make the cut." Flack shuddered, shying away from the railing. "Miracle our vic didn't break through the ice completely."

"He's a pretty hefty guy, the currant isn't that strong over here, ice is probably thick enough. We're losing time not getting down there, the water's taking away our evidence." Lindsay turned away from the railing and pulled her woolen hat over her ears as the wind picked up, making her cringe against the cold. "Alright. Hook me in."

Before Danny could protest, his girlfriend stripped off her bulkier 'forensics' parka, revealing the warm sweater she'd pulled out of his closet earlier that morning. Without ceremony, that was gone as well, and she quickly rummaged through the duffle bag of equipment, extracting a thin, insulated jacket and threading her arms through the sleeves efficiently, thoughts already focused on the job, and the tasks at hand. She turned away from him, reaching for the belaying equipment, and his eyes settled on the NYPD insignia proudly displayed across the back. Danny let out a sigh, leaning against the ledge and watching her fasten the straps of the harness, looking every bit the part of the New Yorker she was becoming, twisting and moving confidently in the dark department jacket. He opened his mouth to object, but she was tossing the belaying equipment at him.

"Secure the line, cowboy." He couldn't help but grin, it sounded like she was bossing him around, and he coughed into his fist, nodding businesslike, making an effort to not show just how much it turned him on. Really, though, he was the only other CSI on the scene certified to use the equipment. They made quick work of the harness and lines; Danny, focused on double checking her harness, missed the exasperated expression she gave him, mistaking the coloring on her cheeks for the result of the biting cold instead of the guilty conscious making her blush. Danny released her, securing the tether line where she had looped it, through part of the underbelly of the level above them.

"You sure you wanna do this?" He asked quietly, his eyes focused on the clove hitch he was fumbling with, but his attention devoted to the woman beside him.

"Don't start, Dan." Lindsay cast him a weary smile. "It's only a few feet."

"It's forty feet, Linds, and then fifteen feet of water below freezing." She rolled her eyes, moving around him to the ledge, accepting the boost from Flack as she climbed over the railing, pausing for a moment on the outer side, the wind biting fiercely at her back.

"Ready?" He smiled at the excitement that mixed with determinism in her voice, and he nodded, clipping in the safety carabiners and widening his stance, supporting her as she readied to descend.

"Good to go." He steadied his grip, stepped back to counter the pull of her weight as she dangled below him. Danny let the line out slowly for several seconds, before breaking the silence.

"You know, I don't think I like this." Lindsay smirked distractedly at the thickened accent in Danny's timbre. She squirmed in the harness, adjusting the strap across her stomach. Resting a hand on top of her helmet, she looked up, partway through her descent, flashing him an amused smile.

"You seemed to think the equipment was safe when _you_ used it." From the lowest ledge of the Verazzano- Narrows Bridge, Danny Messer rolled his eyes. Beside him, Flack let out a chuckle, leaning casually over the ledge of the bridge.

"Yeah. You're funny. Seriously, Montana." Danny shifted his weight uncomfortably, adjusting the earpiece more securely in his ear as he watched her turn hers on. The distance was getting too great to continue shouting back and forth. That was fine with him- he didn't want to have any sort of private conversation become a public spectacle, even if the back up they had on sight was only a half dozen uniforms, himself, and Flack.

"Alright, Messer. Get the kits ready on the embankment." Her voice flooded his ear, and he nodded, shaking off the effect of her gently authoritative tone.

"Be right down." Danny's tone softened, and he stilled the line as he maneuvered around it, peering over the ledge to see her hanging below him, legs dangling out from the harness, contrasting sharply against the near-florescent of the drifting layer of snow that covered the cracked and brittle surface of the frozen water. He watched her shift in the harness, captured, for the moment, in her graceful movements as she swung her legs back and forth, vaguely reminiscent of a child on a swing set. He bit back a groan, fighting the push of vague arousal as he turned away from her, making his way off the bridge and down the steep slope of the embankment. He made his way down quickly and easily. There wasn't too much ice or snow; there had been a warm spell, and the temperature had risen above 32 degrees for several days.

Lindsay watched him make his way to the edge of the frozen water, clearing a path for Sid's men to bring the ME's gurney behind him. She smiled uninhibitedly, aware that the breadth of the helmet and the height of the ledge obstructed Flack's view of her features. Not that she really cared if Flack knew about them- it was really Danny that had hit the ground running in the secrecy department. That was fine with her. If it was his job to keep their thing under wraps, then it was her mission to make him squirm with want on the clock.

"You know, I've got a thought about all this equipment-" The playful suggestion in her voice left him stifling a grin with a working grimace as he stumbled a few steps down the embankment.

"We got work, smartass." He paused near the water for only a moment, openly reading her features as if they were still lying in bed, waiting for the alarm to go off. The intimacy in his gaze startled her, despite how brief it was. "Save the thought, though, huh?"

"Mm." She sighed in his ear, making Danny grin; amused.

"ME's here." Flack called down from the ledge, catching both their attentions.

"I see them." He heard her inhale a slow, tentative breath. "What was that?" Danny's head snapped up to his girlfriend, worry evident in his expression. She was frozen in place, leaning back only just in the harness, with traces of panic in her tone.

"Lindsay?" He hurried to the frozen edge, ditching the heavier equipment in the drifts of snow, eyes locked on her dark figure, suspended twenty-five feet above the ice, and their DB.

"I felt it. The line jolted." She pushed a lock of hair out of her face, her attention on the tethered rope. "Something's not ri- Shit!"

"Fuck, Lindsay!" Danny winced, running to the edge of the ice as the rope snapped, and Lindsay's petite body plummeted to the surface, her helmet smashing first, then her tiny frame, crumpling and shattering the delicate sheath of ice with a brittle splash.

The crime scene erupted- shouts and alarms and radios. Through the noise and commotion, Danny forgot about the body, the contamination he was causing the scene. He skidded across the thin ice without thinking, stepping lightly, praying the weakened ice wouldn't cave under his weight. She fell through the surface completely, submerged under water for several elongated seconds, disappearing from his sight. His muscles caught hold of a memory, freeing his mind and making his motions automatic and fluid, he easily slid across the jagged, uneven surface, crawling quickly to the broken ice.

"Lindsay!? _Linds!"_ He cringed, feeling the rough, serrated surface of the ice tear at his 'forensics' jacket, slowing him down. Still, Lindsay did not break through the sloshy, rippling surface of the newly exposed water.

"Officer down, I need a bus!" Flack called it in, running along the length of the end of the bridge, jumping the sides and nearly tumbling down the steep slope of the embankment. "Danny! Double back!" Flack was yelling to him, rushing down from the bridge, moving quickly the moment the ropes snapped. Danny heard dozens of voices yelling, but he inched his way to the edge hurriedly, terror and panic defining his expression as he leaned over, reaching his hand into the black, freezing water blindly.

"Lindsay, honey, where are you?" The panic filtered to his voice, now, and he heard it crack along with the ice. He flailed his limbs out, distributing his body weight as best he could, waving his arm madly in the depths beneath him, his fingers catching hold of thick fabric. Heaving with all his might, Danny pulled against the weight of the water, extracting the arm of the thick woolen coat their John Doe had been wearing, a frozen, partly decaying arm still inside it. Glancing around frantically, he realized what happened.

"She landed on the DB! _Fuck!_ Lindsay!" Danny pulled their heavyset male DB out with considerable effort, ignoring Flack as he glided tentatively across the thin surface coming around and crawling up behind him, grasping a hold of Danny's ankles.

"Go." Danny twisted back, reaching for his maglight, shining the beam into the dark, murky, freezing mess that had swallowed his girlfriend. He leaned forward fearlessly now, reaching blindly into the water, submerging himself to his shoulders, straining to feel any part of her. Out of nowhere, her arm appeared in the fading beam of his flashlight, and he grabbed her, yanking fiercely as his lungs burned from lack of oxygen.

He was moving- Flack was pulling him steadily away from the edge of the broken ice and frozen water, and he gripped her limp, slender form, extracting her from the black water that had saturated her sleek NYPD jacket, and his, making efforts weigh a hundred pounds more. He roughly slung her alongside him, plunging his arms back into the black water and pulling her up by her hips, inching her tiny body away from the paper-thin edge of the ice. Danny hooked his arms under Lindsay's shoulders, pulling her body back further, where the ice was a bit thicker.

"She's not breathing, Dan." Flack's heavy Yonkers accent startled him, and a sharp heat pushed through his chest, leaving an aftertaste of panic bitter in his mouth.

"Lindsay? Lindsay, baby, can you hear me?" Danny moved to kneel beside her, vaguely aware of Flack shifting her to lie flat on her back on the other side of her body. His panic nearly bested him- Danny cupped her face delicately, calling her name several times as Flack leaned over her, searching for signs of respiration in a methodical manner.

"Loosen the helmet, it's obstructing her airway." Flack turned, kneeling, warning the rescue team that had arrived not to venture out onto the ice. Danny unfastened her helmet, freeing her mass of dampened hair, curling, even now, in the biting cold. Danny laid his ear against her chest, the panic rising at its immobility.

"C'mon, honey." Danny cursed through gritted teeth, weaving his fingers together and pumping on her chest. It only took a moment before Lindsay coughed, expelling a mouthful of dirty water that had been caught in her throat. It bubbled out of her roughly, making her wince and curl into herself from the pain.

"Uh." She coughed more, and he turned her delicately onto her side, slipping off the rappelling helmet and supporting her rigidly with one hand in her hair, the other along her hip.

"Careful, Lindsay. Easy." Danny squinted; only now realizing his glasses had fallen off his face in his efforts to bring her to the surface. Not that it really mattered, all that mattered was that she was here, and she was breathing on her own. She leaned against him, and he led her back down, resting her flat again on the ice. He crouched over her, a relieved grin finding its way to his features. "Easy."

"Uh." She groaned, crinkling her nose in discomfort, disoriented, shivers making her body shake belligerently. "Danny." Her whisper was barely audible, but it brought a rush of relief to him so quickly and with such intensity it burned him, knocking him from his knees as he doubled over her slight frame, smashing a kiss to her forehead, grateful she was out of the darkness, his tears mixing with watery residue from the river, freezing on her cheek. He pulled away after a moment, ignoring the raw concern glistening in Flack's eyes, listening to the steadying of her breathing rather than the gentle, cautious crunch of his friend getting to his feet, testing the solidity of the ice a few feet to the north.

"I've got you, Linds, everything's going to be fine." His fingers were numb against her chilled skin, and the worry was plain on his face. He cradled her gently, stilling her neck. He listened to her take a tentative breath, filling her lungs slowly. "Easy, honey."

"The line gave out." Her whispers were breathy and she wheezed heavily, frightening him.

"C'mon, let's get you someplace warm." Danny slid his arms beneath her, cradling her body against his chest. She shivered uncontrollably against him, and he turned, shielding her from the brunt of the wind with his body. Slowly, steadily, he eased her up and rose to his feet, stepping cautiously in the general direction of where Flack was motioning there was thicker ice. She gripped his jacket with weakened fingers, white from the frigid air coming at them in violent gusts. Crime scene forgotten, Danny trudged across the ice in the path Flack had taken to the riverbank, his knuckles white from the steely grip he had on her soaking clothes, focused on closing the distance between them and the gurney Flack had at the ready.

"C-cold."

"Hang in there, Montana." He cringed, shifting her weight carefully in his arms, recognizing instantly the numbing burst of what used to be a searing, constant pain in his wrist. He moved quickly; the resounding cracks of breaking ice either close at hand, or a result of adrenaline cursing through his body, reverberating in his ears.

Reaching Flack, and the gurney, Danny set her down frailly, making short work of the thick blankets Flack had ready. Glancing at his friend, Danny let the other detective secure the blanket, instead turning his attention to Lindsay, touching his forehead to hers; cupping her cheek in one hand, holding her body from chattering with the other. The rescue team swarmed around him, producing angry, urgent noises he couldn't hear. Hands were grabbing him, and the faceless bodies around him pulled Lindsay up the embankment, leaving Danny in starkly unsaturated air, Flack holding him back firmly, worried compassion in his face.

"Take a breath, huh?" Flack squeezed the crook of his shoulder reassuringly, clearing his throat and looking away, across the river. "She'll be okay." Danny grimaced, shrugging off Flack's hand roughly; already making his way after her, fierce determination set rigidly in his jaw.

Flack could only watch him go, scrambling up the embankment after the paramedics. Danny caught up to them quickly, pushing through the wall of the rescue team, the lettering that spelt out 'Forensics' across his back disappearing into the tangle of FDNY jackets.

"Wait, I'm ridin' with her." Danny's voice carried across the embankment, and Flack recognized the frantic worry in his friend's husky tone.

The lights were starkly bright, giving off an unnatural hue as Lindsay opened her eyes, hesitantly. The boxy room rocked slightly, and it was several minutes before she realized that she was in a moving ambulance. There was a pair of unfamiliar faces hovering protectively over her- mumbling in medical jargon and moving in quick, calculated motions.

"This should help you breathe easier, Detective Monroe." The medic to her left reached around her, stringing an oxygen tube under her nose and behind her ears. Breathing in, the air was warm and moist, making her cough. She groaned softly, aware of the heavy heat being added to her torso and legs. "We're going to start an IV of warm saline to help rise her body temperature, just as a precaution." Lindsay frowned, wondering whom the medic was talking to. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by a sharp pain on the back of her left hand. Then, the medic's latex covered fingers were replaced by a more familiar touch.

"I'm right here, Linds." He covered her hand with his firmly, and the heat from his fingers nearly burned her cold ones, and she smiled faintly, recognizing the hysteria in his voice and the urgency with which he tried to suppress it.

"Danny." It came out as a whisper, but the medic nodded his head, moving down her body to accommodate the other detective in the bus, letting Danny take the seat within her eyeshot. The heat from the IV and the blankets had begun to warm her gently, the warm air making her breaths come easier. She tightened her grip on his fingers.

"We're gonna get you checked out, but you're gonna be okay." He leaned forward; pressing a kiss to her fingers carefully, his breath warm on her knuckles.

She looked away for a moment, up at the noise of the sirens being turned on, worry evident in her features as the bus sped up. Looking back at him, her worry was reflected in his own expression, mixed with his jaw set sternly, a product of feeling uneasy at the abrupt loss of control. "Standard procedure." He explained, alluding to the sirens.

"You're a bad liar, Messer." It came out slowly, and he broke into a tight smile, worry unfaded.

"ETA to Trinity is five minutes." Lindsay watched Danny look up and over her at the medic on her right, and nod restlessly. The paramedics commandeered the rest of the trip to the emergency room, evaluating Lindsay's injuries and monitoring her body temperature. Danny could only watch, attempt to convince himself that she would recover, that she was going to be taken care of, that she'd be okay.

The ambulance rolled into the Trinity ER in mere moments, and Danny felt Lindsay clutch his fingers tighter as the doors opened and the paramedics adjusted the gurney to roll it out. In a rush, the paramedics rolled out of the ambulance, and Danny loosened his grip, letting her fingers slip from his as they read the ER doctors the bullet.

"Thirty-four year old female, sustained injuries to the left femur and the right shoulder, twenty foot fall into the river through the ice. Submerged for several minutes. Body temp was 90.2 at the scene, read 90.7 in the bus. Gave warm saline through IV, heated oxygen. No loss of consciousness."

In a flurry, the ER inhaled the white gurney and the woolen bundle that was his girlfriend, and all Danny could do was follow behind. He paced the crowded hallway agitatedly, unable to follow Lindsay into the Trauma Room, reduced to watching their frantic movements and Lindsay's fragile frame. After several minutes, the portly doctor attending to Lindsay glanced up, and, after discussing something with his colleague at length, made his way out of the Trauma Room to talk to Danny.

"Detective?"

"How is she? She okay?" Danny shifted his weight, panic and nerves unsettled, and getting the best of him. The doctor paused a moment, taking in the younger man's disheveled, frantic appearance.

"I suspect Detective Monroe will make a full recovery." Dr. Faris smiled knowingly at the relief that flashed over Danny's features. "Her left femur sustained a hairline fracture, and she tore several ligaments in her right shoulder. We were able to raise her core temperature to 95 degrees, and she isn't presenting any symptoms of permanent damage due to hypothermia."

"Good, good." Danny's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Can I see her?"

"You're not next of kin."

"I'm her emergency contact. Partner on the job. Boyfriend." The doctor's features softened.

"We're going to admit her, and get her a bed upstairs. You can see her when she's settled in. Give us ten minutes." Danny's phone rang shrilly, interrupting the doctor. A glance at the screen told him it was his boss, and Danny excused himself from the doctor, thanking him, and flipped open the phone.

"Mac." Danny squinted harshly, keenly feeling the loss of his glasses in the form of a sharp pain behind his eyes. He cast his gaze to the tile floor, trying not to think about it.

"Flack filled me in. How is she?"

"Stable. Doctors think she'll make a full recovery." He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "They're admitting her right now."

"Flack and I are just pulling in."

"I'll meet you out front." Danny snapped the phone shut abruptly, sighing a moment as he oriented himself, then began down a hallway, heading toward the front of the hospital.

"I'm just warning you, Mac- he was different." Flack slammed the door of the cruiser shut, making his way around the department vehicle quickly, matching the older man's stride. "He wasn't thinking. Just slid across the ice. Coulda died."

"So could have Lindsay." Mac frowned, setting his jaw rigidly with concern. "There he is." Mac nodded toward the door as it opened, revealing his CSI. He couldn't help but feel the sharp jab of déjà vu- it was not so long ago that they had acted out this scene; Danny with dried paths of tears along his cheeks, face reddened by panic-stricken worry, restlessness seeping into his muscles, tense with agitated movement.

Mac let him direct them through the bowels and corridors of the hospital without much comment, keenly aware of the shift that had occurred in Danny. He moved through the halls with a sort of urgency, eager to see her, and Mac would have chuckled as he and Flack broke into a jog had the circumstances not been so grave. He trailed briskly after his favorite CSI, alert for the telltale signs that Danny would do something rash or stupid, muscles tense and ready. Mac tried not to think too much about Lindsay, Danny had said she was going to be okay. He batted down a sharp burn of panic as Danny slammed his hand against the elevator button, and they made their way quickly in.

The steel, slow moving doors hadn't shut completely before Mac's hand was on Danny's shoulder, steadying the younger man. It was a familiar moment for both of them, but Danny shrugged him off winning the battle with his tears. Neither he nor Lindsay had mentioned their mutual affection to any of their coworkers, and he desperately wanted to keep it together.

"I'm okay." He sounded gruff, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears, but Mac let go, choosing to regard him with a worried expression nearing compassion.

"You're not."

"I just- I'm just. She didn't come up right away." He mumbled hoarsely, scrubbing his hands over his eyes as the elevator stopped moving. He pushed through the doors as they first began to open, making his way down the hallway, his boss and his best friend in tow. Flack frowned, fraught with concern; Danny was already moving past the desk, half listening to the directions the nurse had given him. Exchanging similar troubled expressions with Mac Taylor, Flack quickened his step, following Danny.

He stopped short at the door to Lindsay's room, the color rising barely in his cheeks, his affect turning suddenly awkward. Mac leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scene in front of him. Bundled up with heating pads and blankets was his country girl CSI, taking a hold of the front of Danny's jacket, pulling him to her and kissing him openly, deepening their kiss with blunt sincerity.

It wasn't their first kiss, that much was clear. It was, however, news to him. Claire had kissed him like that only twice; when he had first seen her after his tour of duty in Beirut had ended, and when he had taken a bullet in his kevlar in a hostage situation his first year on the force. He smiled, stepping away and giving the sleeve of Flack's jacket.

"C'mon, Detective. Let's go get a cup of coffee."

…

A different kind of first kiss. Thanks for reading; I've worked this one over for several months, and I'm pleased with how it came out, but I'd appreciate your opinion.


End file.
